


Sticking With You

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Season/Series 15, Soul Bond, soul repair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27154891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: Sam’s soul has been stretched to the limit after being attached to Chuck via the damn bullet in his shoulder. But now he has something to decide: whether or not to fill Dean in about what had really happened to Sam while Dean was off hunting on his own and killing his old buddy. It takes him the whole drive to Alaska, and nearly the whole way back to work up the courage to spill the whole story.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Sam/Dean
Comments: 17
Kudos: 393
Collections: Wincest Big Bang 2020





	Sticking With You

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2020 Wincest-Big-Bang. The Velvet Underground song, “I’m Sticking With You” is worth a listen. Story is an AU set during and after the drive home from Alaska in episode 15.11 “The Gamblers”. Thank you for the brilliant and beautiful art, thegoodthebadandtheart.

*****

[Check out the Art Masterpost Right Here](https://thegoodthebadandtheart.tumblr.com/post/632763523991306240/heres-my-art-for-the-wincestbigbang-drawn-for-a)

*****

At first, Sam was just relieved that he’d been able to figure out that all those weird visions that he’d been having weren’t his own. They were just Chuck’s memories or scribbles or whatever. After seeing all that stuff though, all the horrifyingly creative ways he had killed Dean or vice versa, Sam didn’t think he’d ever get a chance to truly feel hopeful again. He knew that he probably should have been angry at Dean for haring off on that hunt all by himself right at the moment when he’d needed him to be there. Sure, Dean had been strangely huffy over the whole Eileen thing, but still. If Dean had been there at the bunker, then Sergei wouldn’t have been in their home, roaming around free range style, completely unsupervised, and then stealing the Key to Death, whatever the hell that was?

Sam had no idea they’d even possessed something called the Key To Death much less what the hell the thing even was meant for. With the way their luck (or non-luck) was going, he knew they’d probably be needing it to kill Chuck if it ever came down to that. He hoped that at some point, he’d get a chance to take Sergei out for good. Cas should never have let him roam around the bunker like that with no supervision.

Eileen told him about how creepy the guy was, but she’d been more focused on keeping Sam alive, which he was of course very thankful for. But what else did that creepazoid guy do, or touch, or take away with him besides the Key to Death thing? They just didn’t know for sure, so Sam had to spend way too much time re-cataloging, cleaning and honestly sanitizing everything in the place, just in case. Yeah, it’d be good to have a chance to take Sergei out for good, so Sam didn’t ever have to worry about him coming into their home again. He still didn’t get why Cas ever relied on the guy, it’s not like he was remotely trustworthy or even reliable in the “help” he had provided.

Sam never found a way to bring any of this up with Dean over the next few weeks. He thought and obsessed about the soul stretching and the whole soulmate thing as well as the Sergei thing, but he didn’t talk about any of it with Dean or anyone else. He might have spilled his guts if Rowena or even Mary had been around, but they were both dead and gone. And now Eileen was gone too, off on her own, even if Sam hadn’t felt like she was really quite ready to be safe hunting alone. It hadn’t been up to him to decide or even insist that she stay, so she had left anyway without a big discussion. In the end, it was probably for the best, especially for her. Sam definitely didn’t want to try to describe his soulmate situation with Dean to her. He was pretty sure she would never understand in a million years, or would at least greatly misinterpret what he meant.

Because they were not like _that_ , he and Dean. Sure, they knew they were soulmates but they weren’t _soulmates_ in that romantic sort of way that everyone seemed to assume. Eileen had already been saying stuff about not wanting to come between he and Dean, and well, she had been absolutely right about that, and now she was gone. Problem solved. And yeah, probably for the better for a whole lot of reasons. Now that Cas was back and finally hanging around with them again, Sam almost unloaded his troubles on him. But then he remembered, that Cas didn’t even have his own soul so he wouldn’t be able to commiserate or understand in the way Sam needed. There was no one for Sam to talk to, so he kept his soulmate conclusions to himself.

The soulmate conclusions, or guesses, or whatever you would want to call them. It was a lot for Sam to carry all on his own, this new realization that their souls were so thoroughly intertwined that he had nearly died because Dean wasn’t there. He didn’t know how Dean would react to knowing something like that, it was hard to even imagine really. At least Sam’s soul was no longer tethered to Chuck, and as long as Dean stuck around, they’d both probably be okay. Sam knew that it wasn’t fair to keep this new information from Dean. He should know the truth, but Sam didn’t want to put that burden on his brother at the moment. Not now, not when everything else was so damn shitty.

****

On their long drive home from Alaska, somewhere in there on the long second day of driving, Sam finally spilled what he’d been holding inside. Late at night when they were talking about everything and nothing. Their time-tested technique to make sure that Dean would stay awake enough to keep on driving that last hundred miles.

Sam was never sure when he looked back on that moment, why he had opened his mouth and spilled. But there was no denying that once he had, everything…everything changed.

“You know when you were gone on that hunt, with your friend Lee?” Sam asked.

“You mean, the hunt where I had to kill Lee, and then I came back home and you’d almost died while I was gone? Yeah, I remember that one, little hard to forget,” Dean said.

“I thought you should know—I figured out something really important. It’s about us and our souls. I was able to work it out because of what happened to me,” Sam said.

“Something about our souls, like what? Let me guess, they’re as torn up and ragged as we are now, how close am I?” Dean asked with a one-sided grin.

“No, nothing like that, I have no clue about how torn up our souls are compared to how we look on our exteriors. Doubt that’s even related,” Sam said.

“Well, what about them then?” Dean asked.

“It has to do with how my soul was being stretched. The way Cas described it, my soul was stretching because it was attached to Chuck via the bullet. The whole time that I had the stupid thing stuck in my shoulder, my soul kept getting stretched and overstretched.”

“Yeah, and, what’s that have to do with me and my soul?” Dean asked, fingers flexing and stretching on the steering wheel, first the right, then the left, just like always.

“Well, when you came back home from that hunt on your own, I got better just about instantly. It didn’t make much sense to me at first, because nothing else had happened to change the situation, besides you finally showing up.”

“Maybe it was what Cas or Sergei did, or having Eileen there that helped. I showed up pretty much after all the excitement was over.”

“You did, but I could feel it when you came back home, Dean. I could feel it all through my whole body and I didn’t know what the hell it was and then you walked through the infirmary door—and it all made sense.”

“What did?” Dean asked.

“I’m pretty sure it’s because our souls are connected or intertwined, somehow because of the whole soulmate thing. Don’t ask me for specifics on it, I’m not sure yet and I haven’t been able to find anything in the lore.”

“There’s lore on soulmates?” Dean asked.

Sam was surprised that this was Dean’s question, out of all the things he could have asked about the soulmate issue. They had never talked about it, what Ash had told them all those years ago when they had visited their Heaven, the whole concept of Winchesterland and all that. They’d never brought it up, not once. But in this moment, Dean not even questioning whether or not they were indeed soulmates, that was basically what Sam had needed to know. His brother had apparently just accepted it as a fact about them, otherwise Dean would have challenged him on it right then and there.

But Sam still had to answer the question that Dean _had_ asked, right here and right now. “There is lore about soulmates, yeah a whole lot of it actually. But the actual specifics or mechanics of souls being attached is an entirely theoretical model that no one has made much actual practical study of because it’s…well it’s pretty hard to get people to agree to have their souls examined.”

“I remember how much it hurt you when Cas examined you when you were soulless. Not a surprise people wouldn’t sign up for that.”

“That and there aren’t a whole lot of soulmates out there to even ask. Turns out, it’s incredibly rare.”

“Awww, we’re so special,” Dean teased.

“Yeah, yeah we are,” Sam said, sitting up a little straighter in his seat, feeling a rush of something warm in his belly. It made it more important that he get this across to Dean clearly. “And that’s why I was hit so hard when you were gone and Sergei did that stupid spell. I was…no my soul was attached to you and also to Chuck, and you were both too far away, and it was too much stretching.”

“You mean that was what almost killed you, your soul being stretched like that?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I mean I don’t remember the specifics of what happened, but that’s what Cas and Eileen said,” Sam said.

“Me being gone, that was enough to almost kill you?” Dean asked, voice clipped and short, trying to hide the rush of emotion plain on his face, even in the dark interior of their car.

“It wasn’t just that you were gone, but it was because I was also connected to Chuck at the same time. Cas said that the human soul can only stretch so far,and for so long, and that day it was too much for mine, such as it is after all that’s happened to it.”

“Sammy, c’mon, don’t do that. Just don’t,” Dean said.

Sam stared at him, completely unclear on what Dean was saying.

“Dude, listen to me. I’ve seen your soul, and it’s…I don’t know if I can do it justice trying to describe it. It’s fucking beautiful, most beautiful thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

Sam wracked his brain, when had Dean ever seen, oh…oh no. “You mean, when Death was putting my s—“

“Yeah, I couldn’t help myself, Bobby tried to pull me away, but I saw it when he put it back into you, and it was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. It was this beautiful, amazing light that was somehow you, like the essence of you.”

“Sounds like an 80’s perfume ad,” Sam said, trying to defuse the impact of what and how Dean was talking about his raggedy-ass soul.

“No…I’m not joking, dude, it was you. Sammy, it was you, but made of this beautiful light. I almost couldn’t look at but I couldn’t look away from it either. Death held you in his hand and then…you— _you_ just came back, it was like you were gone, and then you re-inhabited the body that had been bopping around without you in it.”

“You never said anything about this, I didn’t know,” Sam said.

“Yeah, well, I was pretty excited it even worked, for a while,” Dean said. “You were finally back, all the way back. And there was that whole don’t scratch the wall thing we had to worry about, so I didn’t ever bring it up. But now that you tell me all this about our souls, no wonder I felt so damn awful, when you were…you know, down there all that time. It wasn’t just that I was grieving or sad, because it was so much worse.”

“It’s a long way for a soul to stretch all the way down to the Cage, I hadn’t even thought of that. But, yeah no kidding that would hurt. Now that I think about it, pretty much the same thing with me when you were in Hell,” Sam said.

“I don’t want to ever, I mean if I can help it, I don’t want to ever do that again,” Dean said.

“What, go back to Hell? Yeah, same here, me either,” Sam said.

“No—well yeah, of course that, but what I really meant was…I don’t ever want to be apart from you like that. Not if it’s putting you in danger or hurting you.”

“It hurts you too though, that’s the thing and I honestly think it’s a cumulative thing. We chalk it up to oh we’re getting older, that kind of thing, but it’s not like that, not at all, Dean. When we’re together, I feel like I can deal, like I can kick it in the ass like we always do. But when we’re not together, it’s not a guaranteed proposition any more.”

Dean was quiet for a while and then made a small ‘huh’ sound. “It’s like that Velvet Underground song,” Dean said.

“Velvet Underground?”

“Yeah, you know, Lou Reed and all of them, look it up on your phone and play it, it’s a song called ‘I’m Sticking With You’.”

Sam searched and held up his phone so Dean could hear it. “This would be so much easier if you’d just let me put in a new stereo with bluetooth,” Sam said.

“Ssh, it’s starting,” Dean said with a smile that Sam was pretty sure he’d never seen on Dean’s face before.

The song began, such a sweet and simple tune, Sam could barely believe his brother even knew the name of this song, much less who’d performed the thing. The beautiful harmonies at the end and the pureness of the sentiment of the words washed over Sam, and he felt so happy inside and out. Was this how Dean felt about them?

“Is that how you feel, about the whole soulmates thing?” Sam finally let himself ask, once the song’s last notes had faded out.

Dean nodded, a red blush creeping up his neck to stain his cheeks. He was, and always had been, the most beautiful fucking person Sam had ever seen. And now with that blush and that new smile, Sam could barley stand it.

“That’s a sweet song, I’ve never heard it,” Sam said, giving Dean an out by changing the subject.

“It’s on an album of Velvet Underground outtakes, doesn’t get played much on the radio or anything,” Dean said.

“How’d you even hear it then?” Sam asked.

“Uh, I had a friend back in high school that was into raiding his parent’s vinyl collection. We always played the album whenever he had some weed. I can remember all the songs in order, that’s the last one on the second side. It always used to make me think of you.”

“Like you said to Fortuna, you’re not a beach read, you’re Tolstoy,” Sam said, his mouth hanging open in awe.

“What? Oh you remember that?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t like her saying that to you. I was about to tell her to cut it out, because she had no freaking clue. But I didn’t have to defend you, because you came up with that awesome retort.”

“All on my own, amazing right?” Dean snarked.

“Not what I meant, but yeah, it was. And it’s really fucking true too, it made me happy to hear you say something like that about yourself for once,” Sam said.

“Made you happy, how?” Dean asked.

“Well, usually you’re pretty down on yourself, and it was good to hear you talk yourself up for once,” Sam said.

“Well, I am pretty damn awesome,” Dean said.

“You are a lot of things, including that, yeah,” Sam said.

“What else am I?” Dean asked with a curious and open face that told Sam he probably meant it.

“Really, you want a real true answer from me here?” Sam asked.

“We’re driving through the dark night, days away from getting home, and I need to stay awake. So yeah, guess it’s truth telling time, little brother,” Dean said.

Sam couldn’t help the little shiver that passed through him at Dean’s words. “Okay then, you are awesome a lot of the time, and also frustrating as hell sometimes, especially when you’re being stubborn. You care very deeply about other people and think that you’re really good at hiding it. Sometimes it makes me feel bad in comparison. Because to me, you’re the only thing, no, the only person I really care about.”

“That’s not true though, just back there with Fortuna, you were betting our whole lives on those nobodies at the bar,” Dean objected.

“That’s different, that’s the job, I learned that from you,” Sam said.

“No, it’s not the job, you’ve made it the job. I was ready to take the luck we won and run with it. You’re the reason we stayed, Sam. You’re the reason Fortuna gave in and made things right for all those folks.”

“Fine, okay, but that self-sacrificing thing—I definitely learned that from you.”

“Okay, sure, but continue telling me about what I am,” Dean said.

“You really want to hear more, huh?”

Dean nodded, a small smile fleeting across his lips.

“You are also the strongest person I know, and I don’t mean physically, even though you are very strong that way too,” Sam said.

“You’re kinda rambling there, Sammy,” Dean said with a smirk.

“When you call me that, did you know your whole face changes?” Sam asked.

“It does?” Dean asked, sounding completely surprised, like he’d been caught at something he’d tried to keep hidden.

“Yep, and I’m pretty sure mine does something similar when I say your name,” Sam said.

“Why?” Dean asked.

“C’mon, think about it a little,” Sam encouraged.

“I guess Sammy means a lot of things, besides it just being one version of your name, it’s your childhood nickname too,” Dean said.

“Yes, and…” Sam said, making the circling hand ‘do go on’ motion.

“You know you do the same thing, with my name, you say it a million different ways, and i just kinda know which is which. Dean vs Deaaaan vs Deeeean all mean different things,” Dean said.

“They absolutely do, you’re right. I guess it’s how two people who’ve been together for so long communicate. Or at least how we do it,” Sam observed.

“We have been…uh, together for a really long time now, haven’t we?” Dean asked.

“It has been a while, yeah. That’s why I see more than I’m probably supposed to, when I look at you. Definitely a lot more than other people do, I guess because of how close we are. Sometimes…I worry about how much energy you put into hiding yourself from me. The pain, all the loss, everything, it’s a lot. And I’m right there next to you doing the same damn thing.”

“It’s exhausting isn’t it?” Dean asked.

“That it is,” Sam said.

“Think we could stop?” Dean asked.

“Stop hiding it, at least from each other, you mean?” Sam asked.

“Seems like it’d be worth a try, maybe it would help with the soul thing,” Dean suggested.

“It probably would help, yeah, let’s try it. I will if you will,” Sam offered.

Dean took his right hand off the steering wheel and held it out to Sam to shake. Sam joined their hands together, suppressing the shiver that went through him at their connection. Dean’s hand warm and strong around his, the brief comfort washed over him as they shook on it. “Cards on the table time, from here on out,” Sam said.

“Deal,” Dean said, looking at him for a few beats too long for someone who was driving.

So what was new? Dean always did that. Sam smiled, shook Dean’s hand one more time and reluctantly let it go. “Deal,” Sam said, “Now, c’mon, eyes on the road, remember you’re the one driving.”

Dean winked and reoriented himself to be facing forwards. There was still a smile on his brother’s face, and Sam couldn’t help it, he kept smiling too. Something was lighter between them, maybe it would be better. Maybe it would stay better for more than just a little while.

They fell into a companionable silence then, the one that Sam always appreciated so much for how at-home it made him feel. That comfort of being together with his brother and not having to make small talk and fill the space. Just the familiar music on the radio, the dark night splashed with occasional lights from the small towns well off the highway.

Dean finally got tired of driving when they were still at least eight hours north of Calgary, so Sam looked up the closest motel and gave him directions. They pulled into the bright parking lot of the Dewey Inn, blinking at the banks of lights overhead when they both got out of the car and stretched.

“I’ll just go and…uh, get us a room,” Sam said, feeling the awkwardness of being out of their little bubble made for two and out in the real world. Dean looked like he was about to say something, his face seemed to be sort of opening up, and Sam felt some hope well up, that what they’d said in the car counted out here too. That it’d finally get followed up on and worked out in the real world.

But Dean finally just nodded, pulling the gates closed back over his face and shutting down the bare beginnings of openness.

Once Sam had the room key in hand, he stepped back out into the night that might as well have been day for how bright the parking lot was. The light around Dean’s head halo-ed and shone, almost like it was caressing the skin of his face. Beautiful, Sam thought to himself with a sigh for at least the hundredth time that day. Dean had the bags next to the car and Sam led him over to their room on the end furthest away from the motel office. Down on the first floor of course, out of long habit, that’s what they had always chosen if possible. That old training from their father, from way back when, still made a lot of sense.

It was even more awkward inside the room because they could really see each other’s faces and expressions. Sam had hoped that after all that dark of the night shared intimacy in the car there would be some hope of continuing the conversations they’d started. There was a lot to talk about, their future and the big question of whether it was going to be them sticking together or something else. He gave up even hoping for further conversation once Dean got the bottle of whisky out of his duffel bag and started drinking without even offering him a shot.

Sam headed to the bathroom for a long and uncomfortable shower—alone.

****

Instead of talking or interacting much once they finally made it off the road and into a motel room for the night, Dean drank a few glasses of whisky instead. He used the time to really think about what Sam had said in the car. He was glad that Sam had gotten them talking, it was hard to have conversations like that when it wasn’t just the two of them in the car. But it had always been hard for him to process deep stuff like this while he was driving. All the processing always had to happen after he’d gotten out of the driver’s seat. Dean thought about how Sam probably didn’t know that since he didn’t do all that much driving himself and usually when he did, Dean was either sleeping or injured, so they weren’t much for bringing up deep conversational topics when Sam was the one driving.

He eventually came to the realization that he hadn’t said what he’d needed to, about how he saw Sam, how he saw his pain and struggle too. It seemed like it was important to actually say the words out loud to him, tonight before he was completely asleep. He brought the whisky bottle with him over to Sam’s bed, standing over him for a long moment trying to gauge if he was out for the count or not.

It would be the coward’s way out to not say anything, and Fortuna had declared them heroes just today. It seemed like it was time to try to live up to it in a small, yet crucial way.

****

Sam was almost asleep when he felt Dean sit on the edge of his bed. He sighed but didn’t turn over to face him.

“I see you too, how much you hide the pain away. Maybe it’s because I know what you’ve gone through, how much of it is because of what I’ve done. But I wish you’d let me carry some of it for you,” Dean said, his voice full of a strange emotion Sam couldn’t quite name.

Sam turned over so he could see Dean’s face in the light from the bathroom, he was almost unrecognizable, the openness made him even more beautiful to Sam. He had to take a breath to steady himself before he answered. “I can’t though, you’ve got your own load that you’re carrying. I wish you’d let me carry it for you sometimes,” Sam said.

“Can we maybe take turns at it or something?” Dean asked, eyes locked on Sam’s, still fiddling with the whisky bottle in his hands.

“How would we do that, we’re always lying and hiding it from each other, and ourselves,” Sam said, knowing that was one hell of an understatement of the facts.

“Maybe we need to add another code word, like Poughkeepsie or Funkytown?” Dean asked.

“That might work, how about a Game of Thrones one, like The Twins?” Sam suggested.

“Hmmm, yeah, two identical castles, separated by a river, and joined by a bridge, yeah that works, good metaphor,” Dean said.

“So how will it work, we say it when we need help? Or when we see the other person obviously needs it?” Sam asked.

“It’s all in how you use it. If you say to me, something like ‘seems like you need a visit to The Twins, Dean’ then I’ll know to let you carry some of what I’m dealing with. But if you say something like ‘I’m going to visit The Twins’ then I’ll know you need me to help you out.”

“Deal,” Sam said. “I’ll drink to that.” He held out his hand for the bottle to make it official. This seemed like a momentous kind of thing they were agreeing to, especially on top of what they’d shaken on back in the car. If it worked even a little bit, it would make their lives so much better.

Dean handed the half empty bottle to him and rearranged himself on the bed, with his back against the headboard and his legs out in front of him. Sam propped himself up on an elbow and took a long drink, staring up at Dean’s sharp profile. He was silhouetted against the bathroom light, and Sam could see the sweep of Dean’s long eyelashes. There was something about the way they curled up at their ends that always got to him.

They kept passing the whisky bottle back and forth until it was empty. No more words were exchanged, because they weren’t necessary after all of they’d shared that day and night.

Dean ended up staying the night in Sam’s bed. Whether he had fallen asleep or possibly passed out didn’t matter all that much to either of them.

*****

They woke up in the late morning, to the sound of the housekeeping staff banging on their door. They were all tangled up together which wasn’t all that terrible. But that also included being hard against each other, which was also not too terrible in Dean’s mind, but turned into awkward as hell as they moved against one another to get out of bed and get covered up enough to answer the door. He had to hold back from moaning with the pleasure of feeling Sam’s body moving sinuously against his as Sam struggled his way out of the tangle of covers and body parts. He watched Sam open the door slightly and give the puppy dog eyes to the housekeeper. It worked of course…it always worked. Dean would know. Sam pulled the blanket around himself, covering up what was likely to still be embarrassing.

“She gave us fifteen minutes, or we have to pay for another day,” Sam said through slitted eyes.

“You a little hungover there, dude?” Dean asked with a fond chuckle.

Sam nodded and stumbled his way towards the bathroom, the blanket left behind him on the floor, revealing his long strong and very bare legs. Dean couldn’t help but stare at how beautifully formed his brother was, he always had been, but now, he was really something else. Those enormous shoulders that could bear the weight of the world and all of Dean’s bullshit, that trim waist that Sam worked so hard on maintaining. He was the whole package, his brother was, and there was no denying it to himself any longer.

*****

It was awkward all over again, except for how it kind of wasn’t, at least not as much. In the past if something like that had happened there would have been a lot of angry silence and avoiding each other’s eyes over breakfast. This time it was different, there was some silence, but it wasn’t hostile or embarrassed, maybe confusion was a better way to describe it. And Sam kept looking at him across the table, locking eyes and searching for something as they talked about their route home and whether to go through Calgary or the other way.

They had at least four more long days of driving to get back home. Dean stopped once they were getting low on gas and let Sam drive for a while. They switched again after gassing up and grabbing some cheeseburgers to eat while Dean drove. After a few more hours, Dean was done for, and Sam was passed out cold in the passenger seat. Dean had to find a motel without Sam’s expert navigation, but he managed, pulling into the Rest -A-Way motel parking lot.

Even after the car had been turned off, Sam was still soundly asleep, and Dean watched him for a while before he got out to get them a room. It was hard to take a long look at Sam like this when he was driving. The curve of his brother’s long neck was so inviting, he had to wring his hands together to stop himself from touching Sam’s skin. He let himself out of the car quietly and tried to shake off the feeling of almost, too-close yet again.

When the sleepy-eyed clerk asked him what kind of room he wanted for the night, he almost gave the usual answer of two queens, but he stopped himself. “You got any king beds open?”

“Dude, it’s wide open, there’s only like two other people here tonight,” sleepy-eyes said.

“Then I’d like a king room on the first floor, my…uh, partner’s dead asleep in the car and I might have to drag him inside.”

“Okay then,” sleepy-eyes said, printing out a reservation form and grabbing a key card.

Dean wasn’t sure of himself here, his reasons for asking were bouncing around in his mind. How he was going to explain this to Sam he didn’t know, he couldn’t seem to land on anything that made sense except for: I wanted to sleep in a big bed with you tonight. _Just because._

“You and your _partner_ are in room nine, down on the end. Let me know if you need a luggage cart to haul him,” sleepy-eyes said with that distaste homophobes sometimes tried to hide emphasizing the word partner in practically glowing neon invisible air-quotes.

“Buddy, if it’s some kind of a problem for you, let me know before I pay for the room,” Dean challenged, just holding back on the growl he wanted to let loose.

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Well, I guess I kind of did, but no, it’s not a problem. I just thought ‘partner’ sounded funny, instead of coming out and saying boyfriend or husband or whatever. My honey, that’s what I call my man,” sleepy-eyes said, gesturing his left hand at Dean so he could see the gold ring on his third finger.

Dean signed the credit card screen reader and took the key card. “Your honey ever lucky enough to get a ride on a luggage cart?”

“No, but he’s gotten a ride on something much better, namely me,” not-so-sleepy-eyes said with a laugh.

Dean laughed and waved at the kid. He’d had to drive all the way to Alaska and back to finally have a motel clerk like this one. He couldn’t wait to tell Sam about him, once he got him into the room that was.

There was no need for a luggage cart because Sam was already awake when Dean got back to the car. He was leaning against it doing his hamstring stretches, his back arched just so, the sight of which made Dean stop and admire the view. His brother was just…really put together well. His whole body was really—annoyingly tall, sure, but so elegant and graceful and strong. He thought back to that morning, waking up in the bed, hard against each other, but not moving to do anything about it. Trying to ignore and push it away the obvious attraction they felt for each other. Maybe it was the soulmates thing, or Chuck messing with them. It was most likely just a lifetime of trying to deny what they both really wanted.

He tossed Sam the card key and opened up the trunk to grab his bag. “Room nine, down on the end.”

Sam picked up his bag and got the door open. When Dean made it to their room, Sam was stopped in the doorway. He was staring at the bed. The bed that would be theirs for the night.

“It’s got a king bed, was this all they had?” Sam asked, a strange note of what sounded like vulnerability to Dean in his voice. His eyes roamed over the practically empty parking lot.

“No, I asked the dude for one. Figured it worked out last night, we both got some good sleep right? And we’ve got another long day tomorrow, might as well be comfortable,” Dean said, naming off all the practical reasons and leaving out the most obvious one.

“You don’t have to cover, Dean. We both know it wasn’t a whisky mistake last night. You made the right assumption, I was just surprised is all.”

Dean gently pushed him into the room and shut the door behind them. Sam pretended to stumble and fell face first down onto the big bed.

“Ah, this is so nice, all this spaaaace,” Sam said, star fishing to take up the entire space of the bed.

“Your wingspan, man, you’re taking up the whole damn bed, it’s too much sometimes,” Dean said, toeing off his boots.

Sam flopped over onto his back, his arms still wide, grinning at him with his hair fanned out on the white pillowcases. It was like Dean’s favorite fantasy, a dream that was really happening. Sam smiling at him like this, opened up wide on the bed. He felt like the luckiest damn s.o.b. on the planet.

It must have shown on his face, because the expression on Sam’s face changed, the smile disappeared and he propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s up?”

Dean shook his head and tried to smile, hoping that Sam’s would come back. It did, but slowly. “I was just feeling like Fortuna gave me a whole lot of luck all of a sudden.”

Sam blushed, color high on his cheeks, lips going even a more deep shade of pink. “Same here. C’mon and flop awhile.”

“I gotta brush my teeth and stuff, as soon as I get horizontal I’m gonna zonk out,” Dean said.

Sam laid back on the bed with his arms outstretched. “Don’t take too long.”

Dean looked at himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth. Tired, but happy, and definitely not the look of a depraved monster. Even though there were plenty of depraved ideas he could come up with to do with that beautiful man on the bed in the other room, that wasn’t a thing, that was definitely not happening tonight.

He knew that tonight was special. Because they meant it this time, both of them meant it one hundred percent. There was no guessing that when they slept in the bed together—it was on purpose. It was a choice they were both making because they wanted it.

****

But Nothing happened, except for the whole falling in love thing, which didn’t really need to happen, because it had already happened, it had been happening this whole time, whether or not they had ever stopped to name it. And it wasn’t awkward in the morning. Not one bit. Even though they woke up the same way as they had the morning before, tangled up around one another, hard and wanting.

“Good morning,” Sam said, his head pressed into the pillow and Dean’s shoulder.

“Morning,” Dean said, tightening the hold his body had on Sam’s for a moment before releasing him and slowly, reluctantly unwinding them.

He was already in the bathroom and trying to pee when he remembered that doing that when he was this hard was nearly impossible. He turned the shower on and jumped in, soaping up his right hand and quickly bringing himself off. He may or may not have said Sam’s name out loud when he came. He hoped that if he had, that it wasn’t audible in the other room.

When the shower was shut off and he was toweling his body dry, he heard the bed squeaking and his brother’s voice moaning, “Deaan, yes, oh god.” And then the squeaking stopped. That was a whole new version of his name that he hadn’t heard from Sam before. One to add to his catalog for sure. He shaved in order to give Sam some time to get cleaned up and then bounced out into the room, towel wrapped around his waist.

  
****

Dean could see how flustered Sam was, so he decided to give him a break—but just this one time. He got dressed quickly and scooped up the car keys. “I’m gonna go get us some dinner, any requests?”

“If there’s somewhere that has good soup, I’d love some,” Sam said, arranging the blanket over his lap one more time just to make it blindingly obvious.

“Put a sock on the door handle if you need more time to take care of that,” Dean threw over his shoulder as he closed the door. He grinned to himself when he heard Sam’s squawk of protest.

*****

The dinner Dean came back with wasn’t anything exciting, but at least he’d found soup as Sam had requested. Sam ate the passable beef and vegetable soup as he watched in mildly horrified fascination as Dean pushed the remains of his roast beef drippings around the plastic plate with the last of his dinner roll. He wiped it clean and stuffed the bread in his mouth. It wasn’t a pretty sight, Sam sighed as he thought he really ought to know better than to look at Dean while he ate by now.

“What?” Dean asked with a cheesy grin that showed some of the remains of his last bite.

Sam threw the last bit of his dinner roll at Dean, hitting him in the lips. “You’re gross.”

Dean grabbed up the whisky bottle and stood up from his chair, he ambled across the room to stand by the window, looking out at the parking lot through the sheer curtains. It was so warm in their room, Dean was down to wearing just a white t-shirt and Sam honestly couldn’t get enough of watching his brother move. He was graceful and powerful, and the way he held the bottle up to his lips made Sam nearly mad with desire. Sam pushed up from his chair and stood next to Dean as he drank deeply from the whisky bottle again.

“What?” Dean asked with the same cheesy grin, this time thankfully without any bits of food.

“When I see you do that thing with your lips, I can’t think straight,” Sam said, feeling his cheeks blush hot at just saying something like that out loud.

“You mean this?” Dean asked, curling his lips around the top of the whisky bottle, a little whisky slipped out and hit his white t-shirt.

Sam watched, eyes locked on to the way Dean’s lips tightened almost to white as he practically suckled at the bottle. He slapped Dean on the shoulder once the bottle came away from his lips. “Cut it out, now you’re just teasing.”

“So what if I am?” Dean asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Gimme,” Sam said, grabbing for the bottle.

“You’re not going to overdo it again, right? It sucks when you’re hungover in the morning,” Dean said.

“Sucks for you or for me?” Sam asked, finally snatching the bottle away from Dean’s flailing hand. The whisky slopped onto the back of Dean’s hand, Sam held Dean’s hand up to his lips and licked it off, slow and thorough. Just as he finished he looked up into Dean’s astonished eyes, momentarily worried he’d gone too far, too fast, too whatever. But Dean’s eyes went dark with desire and need and Sam smiled, feasting on the energy between them. He drank deeply from the whisky bottle, as a way to change the subject, change the focus.

Dean was still silent and transfixed on Sam’s every movement like a predator Sam would normally be worried about and on guard from potential attack. Instead Sam let himself soak up the intense attention, it felt like a balm over some sore neglected parts deep inside himself he hadn’t realized were thirsty for whatever this was. Whatever it meant, he needed it and now he could admit to himself that he wanted it.

*******

The motel that night, even though it was perfectly cool outside was very hot. The heater was stuck on, and the window didn’t have a screen. They lounged on their bed after taking cool showers, clad only in their boxers.

Sam lay there on the bed, nearly asleep on his back, as Dean was propped up on his elbows, watching him. It should have felt weird, and usually he couldn’t fall asleep on his back, but he felt safe. There was something about having Dean right there, warm and real next to him on their bed that he couldn’t put his finger on. He could feel his brother’s gaze as a ghostly caress, as his attention moved over his face it felt like Dean was touching him ever so softly. He sighed with the feeling and opened his eyes.

Dean’s widened in surprise, he’d probably thought Sam was asleep, and then he smiled.

Sam returned his smile, looking up into his brother’s face, so familiar and dear shaded in the red lights of the vacancy sign outside. Even in the dim light, those green eyes shone, soft with feelings that were usually kept hidden. “You’re not going to sleep tonight or something?”

“Nah, I don’t want to miss anything,” Dean said.

“I don’t think anything’s after us,” Sam said. “I don’t think you need to be on alert.”

“Don’t want to miss anything about this,” Dean said, his eyes roaming over Sam face and down his bare chest.

“Oh,” Sam said as he realized what Dean meant.

“I was just watching you fall asleep, carry on,” Dean said.

Sam snuggled a little closer, so their hips were touching as well as their arms. Dean wrapped a foot around his ankle. Even though it was too warm in the room, it felt just right to be this close to Dean. “Now I don’t want to fall asleep and miss anything,” Sam said.

Dean chuckled and rubbed his face on Sam’s bare shoulder. “I’m not singing you any lullabies, dude.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Sam said.

  
Dean whacked him lightly on his bare stomach and then left his hand resting there. It felt nearly as hot as a brand, Sam felt the shape of Dean’s fingers and palm marking him as being permanently Dean’s. ‘And that would be okay by me,’ he thought, drifting off to sleep.

This whole new procedure was repeated two more times as they spent the next two nights on the road making their way back home. And it didn’t ever get awkward again which was a relief to both of them. Each night they were still getting a king bed, and sleeping better than ever without a whole big conversation or production. It was a new normal that didn’t feel all that new.

***

They arrived back home, driving through the outskirts of Lebanon towards the bunker. Dean turned into the side road that led around the back to the garage entrance. He pulled into the spot he always parked the Impala in, shut the engine off and let out a surprisingly loud whoop.

“Woohoo! We made it!”

Sam unbuckled his seat belt and started gathering up his stuff. “Man, it’s good to finally be home.”

Dean went still next to him, looking at Sam, long and hard with such a strange expression on his face.

“What?” Sam finally asked.

Dean cleared his throat and made a big production out of unbuckling his seat belt. “It makes me happy to hear you say that, Sammy.”

“That was some damn good driving, dude,” Sam said.

“And stellar navigating on your part,” Dean said.

They unpacked and retreated to their own spaces for a while. It felt so strange to Dean to be by himself for even that short amount of time. It was just very…noticeable. He figured a more than one hundred hour car trip would do that to a person.

Dinner was quiet because there was something in the air hanging unresolved between them. Neither of them knew what was going to happen after they’d finished eating. They weren’t on the road anymore. Usually they’d likely just separate and go off to their own rooms for the rest of the night. They did the dishes together and it still was quiet between them, just working in tandem like the well-oiled machine they were after all these years.

“I really liked it, being on the road with you again. It was a long trip, there and back to Alaska. Dude, I still can’t believe we drove all the way to freaking Alaska,” Sam said in the hallway as Dean clicked off the kitchen light.

“Yeah that was a hell of a lot of sitting, I need some quality horizontal time. Want to come watch something in my room?” Dean asked.

“Sure, I’ll go grab my laptop,” Sam said.

Dean tidied up his room, which at first struck him as a strange thing to be doing, until he realized what this was about. He was specifically picking up his socks (which Sam always always complained about in motel rooms), he was putting anything that was trash into the trashcan where it belonged (also a Sam bugaboo), and he was changing his sheets to the soft flannel ones (Sam always loved flannel).

“You ready for me?” Sam asked from the doorway where he stood, laptop in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other. The look on his face meant that he’d been watching, and that he knew that the tidying was yes indeed for him. “Looks nice in here.”

“Thanks, got used to keeping things picked up. Something about being back on the road with you,” Dean teased.

“We can bring these flannel sheets with us next time if you want,” Sam said, raising an eyebrow as Dean fluffed the pillows.

They watched something, but it didn’t matter what it was, they were mostly watching each other. Trading the whisky bottle back and forth, although Dean quit a lot earlier than Sam had expected he would.

The program or movie or whatever it was ended, and Sam started to get up from Dean’s bed, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Dean’s hand was on his forearm, so Sam stopped.

“Sammy, stay—would you mind? I just slept so much better the last couple of nights,” Dean admitted.

So Sam did.

And he did the night after that.

And the one after that.

Nothing exciting happened but a whole lot of good sleep and increasing intimacy and closeness.

****

“So…uh, is your soul feeling any better yet?” Dean asked over the sink full of breakfast dishes they were dealing with. No matter what was happening in their world, there were always always dishes to be done.

“Is that what all this was for? To get my soul all patched up?” Sam asked, drying the plate Dean handed him and trying not to look at his brother’s face. He didn’t want to know…didn’t want to think that it had all been yet another answer to a call of duty thing instead of something Dean had needed and wanted for himself too.

“No…uh, no of course not. It was more for me really. I noticed mine was feeling different this morning. Better, healed-up or something. I think having Michael in there so long had messed me up pretty badly. Maybe a lot more than I’d realized. And this time that we’ve been sticking together so closely lately has helped.”

“I’m so glad that it worked. I mean, I really had no idea that it was that bad for you,” Sam said, feeling bad that he hadn’t guessed that Dean was hiding his distress from him as usual.

“You’re magic, Sammy, I keep tellin’ you,” Dean said.

“Thanks to Rowena I am,” Sam said.

“No—nothing to do with her, you’ve always had it, in here,” Dean said, poking Sam’s chest right over his heart with a soapy finger.

Sam looked down at Dean’s finger resting on his flannel, the wet spot widening as Dean paused there. Sam’s hand came up to rest on Dean’s, holding it to him.

“It’s not just one of us, that’s what I keep trying to tell you. It’s the both of us, together,” Sam said.

“We’re magic, huh? Yeah, I could be down with that idea,” Dean said, turning his hand over so that they were palm to palm and he could interlace their fingers, the back of his hand still resting against Sam’s firm chest. Dean pulled their joined hands to rest right over Sam’s heart again. “It feels true, in here.”

Sam could feel it as his face changed in that moment, he could see it happen on Dean’s face as they both realized what that meant. He fell into him then, down into Dean’s eyes, his lips, his heat. It was everything he’d wanted and dreamed about and lusted for, but it was also something higher than that. More sublime, exquisite in its perfection. Dean was everything to him. And now maybe the reverse was true.

Dean pulled back from their embrace, his face alight with love and everything else that was coursing through both of them. He was breathing hard, like he was still holding himself back.

“Don’t hold back or anything, Dean. I want this, I want us, I always have,” Sam said.

“Why didn’t you say anything, all these years, Sammy?” Dean asked, nearly breathless with surprise at being kissed so thoroughly.

Sam thought about it, the possibility of this occurring had never been in the category of being at all possible, it just hadn’t been worth the risk. “It never seemed…uh, how do I put this? I just never thought you wanted this too, and the risk—God, I just couldn’t ever bring myself to risk it all on such a foolish hope.”

“The slowest of slow-burns, kinda sums up our whole lives pretty much, right?” Dean said.

“Can we just get this over with?” Sam asked, frustrated with all the talking.

“No, no we can’t do that,” Dean said with an evil little smirk.

“What, you’re going to make me wait, or do you need some wooing or something?”

“No woo required, or waiting. We’re just not going to rush it, this isn’t something to get over with, not to me,” Dean said.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that, you’re right,” Sam said.

Dean started humming the tune of Slow Ride.

“Oh good lord, that’s not…” Sam said, cutting himself off to regain his control over Dean’s mouth. Dean’s humming stopped and turned into a long and low moan.

Sam started walking him backwards out of the kitchen and down the hall towards Dean’s room. He didn’t stop kissing Dean, moving his hands over his back and holding his head in position. Dean was holding on so tight, almost too tight, like he couldn’t help himself. Sam pressed him up against the wall outside Dean’s room, aligning their bodies together made it so obvious how much they both wanted this.

Sam pressed his hips forward so Dean couldn’t possibly miss how hard he was. “Want this, Dean, want you.”

The back of Dean’s head hit the wall behind him and he seemed to sway. Sam steadied him and kissed him deep and hard. Dean’s hands were locked around the back of Sam’s neck holding him in place. Sam’s hips started pulsing forward in small thrusts and Dean began to match him. They both groaned at how good it felt.

“Let’s actually get in my room,” Dean said, finally breaking away from their kiss, breathing hard. He reached behind him and opened the door, pulling Sam in and shutting it behind them.

The only light was the desk lamp, and the only sounds were their mouths moving together and the rustle of clothing being yanked off. Dean was more insistent now, he was the one arranging Sam just so on the flannel sheets, and Sam basked in the feeling of having all of Dean’s focus and attention. He couldn’t believe how different this Dean looked, his pale skin glowing with a dusky blush in the low light. It was mostly his face though, gone soft with so much emotion and all the desire that Sam felt reflected right back at him.

Dean’s hands were on his ankles, moving up his calves, running the wrong way against the hair on his legs. Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean’s, he felt like he was being devoured in the best sort of way possible, his whole body straining towards Dean’s as he lowered himself down.

As their bodies finally met, bare skin against skin for the first time all the way from their joined lips down to their curled together toes, Sam thought he must be dreaming. It was perfect, almost too perfect. They didn’t move or speak for a long moment that could have been hours, just stared into each other’s eyes, both of them searching and finding the _yes_ that had always been there.

Dean finally closed his eyes, and Sam leaned up the few inches that had separated them to softly kiss his beautiful eyelashes. He’d always wanted to do that, Dean’s eyelashes had always been so tempting. Dean’s body shuddered at the feeling and Sam kissed them again. Dean ducked lower to kiss the curve of Sam’s neck, and it was Sam’s turn to shudder at the feeling.

“What do you want, Sammy?” Dean asked in a low murmur against Sam’s throat.

“Anything…mmm, everything,” Sam said, knowing it was too unclear, but he wasn’t thinking clearly, his body thrumming with the long-held desire. “Just want it now.”

Dean chuckled against his throat, and nipped him gently. Sam moaned, his body undulating under Dean’s, pressing their groins together. Dean bit him again, a little more insistently, right where Sam’s neck met his shoulder. Dean sucked hard, bringing blood nearer to the surface and laved the skin he held between his teeth with his tongue. Sam’s hands flailed at the feeling, both landing on Dean’s ass, pulling him in hard in response. Dean finally let go and kissed the spot gently.

Sam planted his feet and spread his knees open, Dean dropping into the space perfectly made for him. They slotted together like the matching spoons they were, hardness against hardness, moving and thrusting against each other in a wild rut.Dean pushed up on one arm and snaked the other between them, holding their hard cocks together, making a firm tunnel for them to both thrust into. Sam copied him, and the combined the slick and friction soon brought them over the edge.

Dean wiped his wet hand on Sam’s stomach, and Sam repaid the favor. They both laughed as Sam flipped them over so that he was on top. Dean looked up at him, exhilarated and so happy his eyes were crinkling at the edges. Sam leaned down and kissed each set of eye crinkles in turn. Dean sighed at the feeling, his hands running through Sam’s hair. Sam could feel himself practically purr at the sensation. Dean’s fingers tightened and tugged and Sam couldn’t help how he responded, thrusting helplessly into Dean.

“Ah hah, I’d always wondered,” Dean said, tugging again with a chuckle.

Sam frowned at being found out so easily.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me, Sammy,” Dean said. “Now I’m gonna get us something to clean up with.” He pushed Sam off and rolled out from under him, coming up to a stand next to the bed

Sam watched as Dean fooled with the sink in the corner, cleaning himself with a washcloth. His beautifully wide back and that perfectly shaped ass were too much to not comment on. “God-damn, your ass is perfect,” Sam said.

Dean laughed and cocked his hips back and forth, shaking his ass at Sam. He looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Glad you think so, yours ain’t so bad either.”

Sam watched as Dean came towards him, steaming washcloth in one hand. He bent over Sam and cleaned him carefully, his stomach, and partially hard cock, down over his balls and further towards his hole. Sam felt himself try to rally and harden back up again. Dean tossed the washcloth into the sink and tucked himself up next to Sam on the flannel sheets, pulling the blankets over them. He turned into Sam, kissing him deeply.

Sam returned the kiss, holding Dean against him, satisfied but still wanting more. “If this was your version of taking it slow, Dean, I’m all good.”

Dean kissed him again instead of answering, slow and thorough like he was memorizing how Sam tasted and felt. “Me too, Sammy."

They arranged themselves together just as they had all those nights on the road, fitting against one another as if they were always meant to.

Sam sighed, as he felt the weight of Dean’s head grow heavier as he fell asleep. This was how it was going to be. For the rest of their lives and whatever came afterwards.

****

The next afternoon, once they’d finally recovered from their initial shock at Jack being alive and standing in front of them, Sam and Dean migrated back towards each other to stand side by side. Jostling their shoulders together as usual, checking in by the most casual of touch.

_We are like the best kind of magnets_ , Dean thought, watching Jack’s expression closely. The kid seemed confused at first, looking between them, then he broke into a huge smile, his eyes sparkling with happiness. It was wonderful to see, the best sort of homecoming present.

“You’re…you’re different,” Jack said, staring at Sam and then Dean and then back again.

“We…we can talk about it later, Jack,” Cas said.

“Can’t you see it, Cas? Right there, it’s all woven together again,” Jack said, pointing a finger at the space between Sam and Dean and waggling it back and forth.

“Yes, it is their soul bond, it looks as if it has been healed,” Cas said. “I take it your journey was successful?”

Dean looked at Sam and tried not to laugh at the expression on his brother’s face, his man, his honey as the desk clerk in Canada had said, but his everything really. Sam went from being concerned to smiling back at him, and then grinning, full-on dimples and teeth. One of those glorious relaxed smiles he rarely got to see these days. “Yeah, we had a run-in with Fortuna, and won back our luck,” Dean said.

“You didn’t—kill her did you?” Jack asked.

“No, didn’t seem necessary, right, Sammy?” Dean asked with a grin.

“Nah, we don’t kill all the gods and goddesses we run into,” Sam said.

“Not unless they really piss us off,” Dean said.

“Well, I won’t do that then,” Jack said with a worried frown.

“Wait, what, you’re like a god or something now?” Dean asked.

“What do you mean, Jack? Has something changed?” Sam asked.

“The entity—you call it The Empty, when I was there all this time, it showed me what I could do—or undo. Basically I have both Chuck and Amara’s power. And Cas told me what it was like when he was a god. To me it sounds like I’m probably in that category,” Jack said.

“Well, okay then, but that doesn’t mean you don’t still have to eat your vegetables or go to bed at a reasonable hour,” Sam said in a stern voice.

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam’s attempt to lay down the law with the brand new god standing before them. Jack was like their son, that’s what he still felt like to him. They could be scared of him, or just try to keep loving him just the same. “Guess we know how Joseph felt now, huh, Sammy?”

Sam turned to look at Dean, his face surprised and impressed all at the same time, “Definitely Tolstoy, dude.”

Dean felt his cheeks heat up a little at the reminder. He knew it was sappy as hell, but he was saying it anyway. Sam deserved it. “I’m sticking with you,” Dean said under his breath.

Sam grabbed Dean’s hand and twined their fingers together. “Ditto.”

_The End_


End file.
